


Meeting Under the Sabbath Moon

by TigerLilyNoh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Magic, Magical Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Psychic Sam Winchester, Sex Magic, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerLilyNoh/pseuds/TigerLilyNoh
Summary: Sam confronts his feelings for Rowena when he agrees to assist her with an intimate spell... which doesn't go entirely to plan.
Relationships: Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	Meeting Under the Sabbath Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Noctemus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noctemus/gifts).



> Bigger works aside, I always have a few little writing exercises on the side burners for me to dabble in when the mood strikes. For a couple years now Rowena as a character and her relationship with Sam (romantic or otherwise) have been something I considered a challenge to me, particularly in finding her voice. It was a goal to attempt, but I was never quite ready to dive into it head first. Then I saw a beautiful, baiting piece of artwork by Noctemus and felt inspired. It took some tinkering, but I’m finally feeling decently about this little blurb. Hope you all enjoy it.

“Samuel.”

Sam stopped walking down the bunker hallway and turned to see Rowena. He’d been on his way to his room to go to bed after a long hunt that had nearly cost them all several limbs or at least a couple pints of blood. Based on their late arrival time and the long shower he’d taken to wash the tacky por’gosh viscera from his hair, it was probably about two in the morning. He’d expected the witch to disappear as soon as they’d exited the impala. She normally didn’t hang around after lending a hand on the occasional hunt. And she definitely didn’t usually lurk about, waiting to snag him during the narrow opening between the bathroom and bedroom.

The act itself was one thing, but her posture was what really gave him pause. Her arms were held close to her body in an almost anxious act. Normally she had the presence of a minor goddess, exuding confidence and wit that was peppered with charming insults. But in that moment something felt wrong.

“What is it?” he asked. 

Rowena had his full attention, and his albeit-unvoiced support. If she had said that they needed to go clear out a second por’gosh den, he would’ve grabbed his coat and keys. He just wanted to right whatever had happened.

“We need to talk,” she replied. “In private.”

Sam guided her down the concrete and tile corridor, then opened his bedroom door. He only briefly felt self-conscious about inviting her into such an intimate setting. The fact that, having lived most his life on the road, _his_ bedroom had extra sentimentality only made things more gut-knotting. But he pushed the thoughts from his mind as he gestured for her to walk in ahead of him. For a second he thought about leaving the door ajar, like chaperoned teenagers, but she had said ‘private.’

“What’s wrong?” he asked while shutting the door.

Rowena touched her dark teal dress, as if to adjust it in preparation to sit down on the foot of his bed, but stopped herself. She took a half-step away from the bed, eyes idly scanning his belongings when she spoke.

“Not wrong. A wee bit messy, but not wrong.”

He swallowed, suddenly aware that he was lingering awkwardly by the door and increasingly nervous about what she had to tell him. As he stepped forward into the room, she casually went over to his dresser. It might’ve been his imagination, but it felt like she was also uneasy.

“Then tell me about the mess,” he encouraged.

She nodded, to herself or him, he wasn’t sure. “Pain is a mighty powerful thing. The kind that doesn’t leave scars that can be seen is even more powerful still.” She paused a beat as she picked up a worn paperback copy of _Man’s Search for Meaning_ from the top of his dresser. When she spoke, she seemed to look through the book, at nothing at all. “I need your help with a spell. It’s a ritual I can only complete once every three years—plus or minus a blue moon.”

He considered himself a sufficiently-skilled caster in a pinch, but she operated on a whole other level than him when it came to the craft. Surely she knew powerful witches. He’d given her Max Banes’ information over a year ago when she’d needed help finding a particular reagent merchant. 

“Why me?”

“Our pain has something in common. The same monster destroyed us both.” She set down the book with unusual care, then smiled up at him with an odd lightheartedness. “Who else in the wide world could bring me that to cast with?”

She was talking about the trauma Lucifer had inflicted. It was one of the pillars of their friendship, a pain that no one else could understand. Meanwhile they both lived with it, knowing that no amount of shoulders to cry on or words of sympathy would better the situation— Knowing that a single other person could relate though…. that was powerful indeed. There was something undeniable between them, even if it was, as she had said, messy.

“Yeah, I’ll help,” he agreed.

But rather than chipperly tell him that she’d see him in the field, her pleasant smile turned into a weak veneer as she became distracted by thought. Her hand reached into her dress’s pocket as if to grab something, but she hesitated to withdraw it for a moment.

“The spell is... a wee bit unorthodox. I—“ Her eyes glanced to the floor as the corner of her mouth curled up briefly in a flicker of a bashful grin. She pulled a folded up piece of paper from her pocket, then placed it on top of the dresser beside the book. “I won’t trick or blindside you, Samuel. Not with this. If you still want to help, I’ll be there tomorrow night.”

He didn’t press her for an explanation. She didn’t want to trick him, whatever that meant. He’d undoubtedly find out in due time. With a small nod of her head, she slipped past him, and let herself out of the bedroom, making her escape.

Sam walked over and picked up the paper. Unfolding it, he discovered that it was a copy of a lengthy set of instructions for the ritual. At first he couldn’t figure out what had been bothering her about it. Even the generic blood offering was previously harvested, meaning that an animal sacrifice wouldn’t be necessary. He was just about to grab his cell and text her asking what he was missing, then he saw step twenty-five.

“Remove all clothing or coverings of modesty,” the text instructed. “Then engage in a mutual act of physical pleasure resulting in at least one shared culmination.”

He blinked a few times, trying to reboot his brain or eyes—whichever had been mistaken—before rereading the line. The blindsiding step was unchanged. She was asking for them to have sex as part of a spell.

Nearly stumbling over his own feet, he hurried to the open bedroom door, but the hallway was empty. 

He glanced at the note written at the bottom of the page in Rowena’s handwriting and stylish green ink.

“Ashby Spring Gardens. Tomorrow 11:45pm.”

* * *

Sam took a deep breath as he gripped the impala’s steering wheel despite being parked. He stared at the entrance to the now-closed public garden. It was 11:40 at night and the full moon was high in the cloudless sky.

Before him, a faint green glow peeked out from beyond the exterior stone walls that had become burdened by a decade of unmaintained ivy. The heavy wooden double doors had once been chained shut, but the melted steel told him that Rowena had let herself in already.

He wasn’t even sure why he was there— well, he definitely had a few ideas. The most glaring reason was the prospect of sex. Normally he wasn’t particularly motivated by physical desires and needs, but this time was different. He’d had a thing for Rowena for a while now. Left to his own devices he probably wouldn’t have made a move, instead choosing to admire her silently. But she didn’t have his predisposition for futile pining. She didn’t push her own feelings and happiness to the side in the interest of the whole. Dean might’ve called her selfish (admittedly accurately so when they’d first met), but recently she’d let some of her guard down enough to help them repeatedly.

Sam had to confess that he had a thing for powerful and assertive women. That had been part of the appeal of Ruby. She’d been a force of nature in her own right. It was more an incidental byproduct that he’d been attracted to several inhuman people, though he had to admit that the skill involved with Rowena’s power was particularly attractive. It spoke to his meticulous and studious nature, finding someone who could harness that same skill set and turn it into a work of art that was capable of reshaping a piece of their world. That was so much sexier than being able to throw someone through a wall or track a scent from a mile out. But if he was going to act upon the invitation and his own desire, precautions needed to be taken.

He opened the glovebox and began searching through it. The condom box had been crushed below an old address book, a half-drunk, flask-shaped bottle of whiskey, and a spare pistol. Inside the crumpled cardboard packaging was a single condom. Its wrapper had seen better days and upon closer inspection there wasn’t an obvious expiration date printed on it. Sam took a moment to check the box, then tossed it over his shoulder into the backseat in frustration. Of course Dean would buy some cheap brand that didn’t meet all the federal labeling requirements. At least when he pinched it the packaging was still air tight.

He turned the single wrapped condom over in his hand while muttering, “Fucking fantastic.” After a moment’s hesitation, he slipped it into his shirt pocket. Anything was better than nothing.

With that uncomfortable business taken care of, he rubbed his face, then exhaled into his cupped hand to check his breath. He double checked the glovebox for any mints, knowing perfectly well that he hadn’t seen any not a minute earlier. That was one more thing to pick up at the drugstore on the way back to the bunker— He mentally kicked himself for stalling.

Sam opened the car door a few inches before leaning back to the right, grabbing the whiskey, and taking two quick gulps. It was too sweet and had more burn than his drinks of choice, but it’d hopefully calm his nerves a bit.

This was the strangest proposition he’d ever received. More than that, it was the strangest proposition he’d ever considered accepting. Without a doubt, the situation was unusual and going forward with it meant a certain amount of embracing the unknown and unexpected. If that wasn’t acceptable he could start the car back up. He could leave right then. He had been invited to participate in the ritual; declining was still an option.

“She’s a four-hundred-years-old witch,” he said to himself as something akin to a pep talk. “She’s seen it all, and it’s doing her a favor.” He didn’t dare voice the fundamental appeal of having sex, both generally and specifically with her. After sitting up a bit more to physically instill a little confidence in himself, he got out of the car and entered the garden.

The ritual sight was easy enough to find: a pale tendril of green fog came out to meet him at the garden’s gate. He followed it through the serene setting, cast in a sort of monochrome, illuminated only by the light of the full moon breaking through the canopy of trees above and the magic at work. He stopped for a moment on a small wooden bridge over a pond to admire some sort of vine growing on it adorned with diminutive white night-blooming flowers. He tried to let the calmness soothe his nerves for a minute before continuing.

Deep inside the quiet garden was a round, grassy clearing surrounded by blossoming cherry trees, with a willow directly across from where he’d entered. A dozen or so large, flat paving stones bordered the ideal-picnicking-location in a roughly twenty-foot-diameter circle. It wasn’t obvious whether they were permanent fixtures or if his host had brought them for the occasion. Scattered beyond the stones were black wax candles, which seemed to somehow cast no light on their surroundings despite being lit; so that was what the spell instructions meant by ‘blindwick flames.’ Mason jar of ram’s blood aside, the place looked downright romantic. He hadn’t been expecting that.

Rowena was wearing a tiny plum-colored satin robe that only just covered her ass. He couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever seen her bare legs. Despite her small stature, she had a perfect balance of curve and length. Somehow her delicate feet didn’t leave even the faintest tracks in the grass as she walked. Her elegance made him even more self-conscious than usual about his large and inelegant form. He discreetly touched his jaw; he should’ve shaved right before leaving the bunker.

She was standing, dwarfed by the willow behind her. One arm held a large, shallow silver bowl while her other hand sprinkled in a white powder. After the concoction was prepared, she gave him the briefest glancing smile, then started pouring a fine line of dark red liquid from the bowl in a massive circle around the clearing, just outside the stones. Step twenty of the ritual. Without looking up from her work, she said, “Be a dear and step inside, then strip.”

He could feel his ears turn pink, but walked into the center of the site. Looking around, he didn’t see another robe. “Don’t I get a robe?”

“How on Earth would I know your size?” she replied, but gave him a sly grin. In a more serious tone she assured him, “Once I complete the circle it’ll be quite warm in there.”

She wasn’t even looking at him, so his embarrassment eased slightly. He removed his jacket, then gingerly took off his shirt, palming the condom, as she finished the circle. Sure enough, the chill night air seemed to instantly warm and even become slightly humid. When he tossed his clothes onto the ground nearby, a puff of the glowing haze drifted up from the grass to be caught in the mild breeze.

“I’ve never done this sort of thing before,” he commented as he started unzipping his pants.

“My my, Samuel. I didn’t count you for a virgin.” Her voice had a distinctly playful quality, so he trusted that she was joking. Rowena began drawing runes in chalk on six of the flat rocks that bordered the circle. Step twenty-two. “I promise I won’t bite…. Well, maybe a wee nibble.”

He exhaled an unvoiced nervous chuckle while shaking his head and tossing his pants into the pile of clothes. “Have you done this ritual much before?”

“Dozens of times,” she replied while finishing off the last runes. “Nothing to worry about, dear.”

Sam idly thumbed the rough edge of the condom wrapper. “There isn’t any magical-roofie aspect to this, is there?” He’d heard plenty of unsavory stories about spells involving sex.

“A willful man like you shouldn’t be affected by the incidental mood setting,” she assured him before adding, “Unless you’d like to treat it like a glass of wine to take the edge off.”

He considered it. There was a lot to be said for quelling some of his nerves. A few minutes ago he’d tried using a bit of alcohol for just that. He took a deep breath while stretching his shoulders to release some of the tension in his body. It took a little concentration, but taking a moment to feel out the influence was surprisingly helpful. Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing and the incredibly subtle intoxicating smell of…. He wasn’t sure if Rowena was wearing a delicate perfume, the nearby flowers, or if it was the ritual itself.

A small hand settled on his chest and he opened his eyes to find her standing immediately in front of him, robe nowhere to be seen. Her fair skin looked as soft as the satin she’d just been wearing— It was. His fingertips traced her flesh experimentally before he reached up and cupped the back of her head. He leaned in to kiss her in a move that actually made her eyes subtly widen in minor surprise.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, lips incredibly close to hers.

“No,” she assured him before explaining, “It’s just more tender a start than one comes to expect with this sort of thing.”

He swallowed some embarrassment at potentially misreading the situation in assuming it wasn’t just a hard-and-fast fuck, but before he could apologize she continued.

“Don’t stop now. I never said I disapprove,” she purred, then stood up on her toes to kiss him.

Her lips were so inviting. Her embrace, so warm. As they kissed in the iridescent spell circle he pulled her naked body closer to him. It’d been a long time since he’d kissed someone, even longer since a kiss had felt so thrilling.

After barely any time, he started getting hard. Thanks to their considerable height difference, the bulge in his boxers pressed awkwardly against her stomach even when he hunched slightly to meet her.

The corner of his lip curled up between kisses and he joked, “I should’ve brought you a step stool—“

Her hand slipped down his waistband and grasped his dick, silencing his teasing. “I’m sure we’ll manage.” She pushed down his boxers, then leaned back a bit to look at his hard cock. Her eyebrows rose and she hummed with delight. “Alas, maybe I spoke too soon.”

Sam grinned at the compliment as she moved down his body until she was on her knees, then looked up at him with an amused expression on her face. His legs were so long compared to her petite body that his dick was just above her head.

“On the ground,” she instructed with a little nod towards the grass.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He lay down, briefly closed his eyes relishing the subtle cooling touch of the grass on his back and the sound of nearby crickets. He held up the still-wrapped condom in casual offering, but she was already between his legs, plush lips on the tip of his dick. She started taking him into her mouth and his arm fell back to the dewy ground as he melted. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that she could take all of him—as far as he knew witches still needed to breathe—but she worked the base of his dick with her hand and her mouth had the finesse of someone with literal lifetimes of experience.

It’d been so long since his last blowjob and it felt so good that he had to fight the urge to cum almost immediately. He tried to keep his composure as long as possible. Rowena’s spell demanded mutual pleasure. He wanted to make it last, but after a few minutes, biting his lip, he groaned, “Too much. Too fast.”

She let him out of her mouth, then crawled forward over him. He was just about to tell her not to straddle him until he put on the condom, but she continued up towards his chest.

“If ye’ need a moment of temperance—“ She positioned herself with one knee on each side of his head. “—I invite you to take a turn.”

It was the first time he’d gotten a full look at her with the robe off and the view was stunning. A tidy patch of red pubic hair set off her otherwise completely smooth porcelain skin. Staring up the length of her body, he admired the subtle curves of her, especially her breasts. There was something about the rarely-seen angle of breasts from below that was its own tease for him.

He reached up, hooking her thighs to spread them wider as he pulled her down to him. Lustful muscle memory kicked in, letting him fully savor the taste of her and the sound of her moans as he licked and played with her. Any concern about the roughness of his five o’clock shadow vanished when her thighs squeezed around him and she hummed at the sensation. He couldn’t stop thinking of how wet she was, how ready. She came on top of him, crying out with pleasure, and he nearly broke. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he slid his hands up to grab her hips and gently lifted her from him.

“I’m about to lose it,” he told her, while wiping his mouth on his arm. “However you need to make this work, but I’m not gonna last much longer.”

She was panting slightly as she ran her fingers through his hair, then rolled off of him and started to move back down to his crotch.

He held out the condom to her, before she could mount him bareback, and stated the obvious. “I have a condom.”

She stopped in her tracks as her brow furrowed subtly for a moment. Instead of responding she crawled away from him, to the edge of the spell circle, and glanced at her notes.

Sam clenched his jaw at the sight of her on all fours with her back to him. He still had the taste of her on his lips. The otherworldly illumination of the spell made her glistening skin shimmer. And he’d stopped so close to breaking that his dick was almost uncomfortably hard. It was taking a fair amount of willpower not to put on the condom and go take her from behind, but the spell was important to her. He wouldn’t risk messing it up.

“I suppose one wouldn’t think a prophylactic is a ‘covering of modesty,’” she mused aloud, then turned back to him. “I’ll allow it.”

“Good, because skipping it is a dealbreaker for me,” he said to remind her that he had some degree of involvement in the decision making.

“Samuel.” Rowena crawled back to him, knocking up small puffs of the luminescent haze from the grass as she moved. She sat down next to him, feet flat on the ground, legs drawn up close to her, creating a little armrest with her knees. In a serious voice she told him, “You’re one of the only people in the world that I actually respect. It matters that you _agree_ to be here as much as you _agreed_ to be here.” After hardly a beat she gave him a playful curl of the lip, then spread her legs. “Now, put the damned thing on and fuck me.”

The instant he’d heard the invitation, after being told that his consent mattered, he lunged forward to pounce on her. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had explicitly said that his feelings were important. Maybe it was implied in his everyday life, but in that moment it felt like a glass of water in the desert. Rowena had pointed out that part of their bond was their shared abuse by Lucifer. She was a brilliant woman; she knew how much it meant to him to say no, and it sincerely mattered to her.

He kissed her as he pulled her close. They ground against each other, rolling a bit haphazardly as they made out until they settled with her on top. Distracted by her perky breasts rubbing against his chest and lucious red hair filling his vision, he clumsy unwrapped the condom, nearly dropping it in his haste. He couldn’t see what he was doing, but managed to get the condom in the right orientation on the first try, allowing him to unroll it onto his dick in no time. As soon as it was in place he grabbed her waist and pulled her down onto him.

“Tidy fuck!” Rowena gasped.

“Sorry.” In hindsight, no amount of lubrication would’ve entirely eased taking about eight inches at once. It really had been a while since he’d wanted anyone that badly. He quickly explained, “Just a bit excited—“

“Yeah, I ken feel that,” she told him as she gingerly started rocking her hips, riding him slowly at first, but soon she began picking up speed.

Sam let her fully take the lead. Rather than gripping her to him, he slid his hands up her thighs, along her torso. He cupped her breasts for a moment before reaching up with one hand to caress her neck and cheek.

The glowing mist of the spell circle swirled around them, pulsating as if in time with a heartbeat. He couldn’t tell if it was Rowena’s or his own, maybe something in between. Tree branches above swayed in a breeze that he couldn’t hear or feel inside the protection of the spell. He felt an odd wave of invigoration and awareness wash over him, a high so powerful that it nearly compared to demon blood—but this felt more pure. Something changed and her pussy felt even warmer and wetter than before.

He couldn’t hold on any longer. His body tensed and he moaned as he started cumming. Rowena cried out as she finished with him. The green glow overtook him before everything went black.

* * *

_Sam was riding shotgun in the impala while Dean drove down the highway. It was midday and The Clash was on the radio. Sam had his cell phone in hand, tapping it against his knee… but not in time to the music. It was an anxious tell._

_“It feels like every year or two it’s some new fucking thing,” Dean complained as he took an offramp. “Knights of Hell, Princes of Hell, King—the whole damn aristocracy of Hell and whichever tight-ass angels are currently having their power trip—“_

_“I get your point,” Sam conceded without taking his eyes off his phone’s notification-free home screen. “We’ve faced a lot of big bads. Just remember that Cas was one of those angels on a power trip once.” He checked his inbox: no unread messages. “We’ve all made mistakes and been the big bad before.”_

_“Sure,” Dean acknowledged. “But this whole ‘Night Terror, God of Torment’ thing doesn’t sound like a guy down on his luck.”_

_Sam reloaded his inbox and texts. Still nothing. “It’s probably gonna be one of those ones that blows over in a week or two,” he muttered, only half paying attention to the conversation._

_He covertly texted Rowena, “Don’t answer the door if you’re there. Just text me.” There were three other messages from him in the last ten minutes, all without read receipts. “Dean’s trying to find you.” “Are you okay?” and “We’re only five minutes away.”_

_Dean coughed pointedly. “I’d feel a lot better about your optimism if you were actually paying attention to anything today.” He spared Sam a sidelong glance. “What’s going on? You’ve been dicking around on your phone the whole drive.”_

_“Just figured if we could get Rowena on the phone we wouldn’t need to bother her in person,” he said._

_“We already made the trip,” Dean pointed out as he parked in a future-resident spot at her apartment building. He gave his younger brother a pitying expression. “We’ll see if Rowena has any dreamscape potion stuff, then we’re getting some coffee.”_

_Sam followed Dean’s lead getting out of the car and heading inside, but he seemed unusually on edge. He looked down every hall as they made their way to her front door. He even held his breath when Dean knocked._

_“She’s probably not even here,” Sam just finished saying when the door began opening._

_As she started opening the door, Rowena said, “I told you, the noise is coming from across—“_

_She froze at the sudden realization that Sam and Dean were there instead of whoever she’d been expecting. But she wasn’t the only one who was dumbfounded. The two brothers gawked at her. Her belly was large and round beneath a short black dress that left very little room for misunderstandings. Night whatever-it-was, God of something was the farthest thing from their minds._

_“What is that?” Dean asked without taking his eyes off her belly._

_“Well, it certainly isn’t the stork or a sandwich, now, is it,” she replied._

_“You?” Dean let out a few skeptical laughs at the absurd situation. “What kind of fuckwit warlock did you con into fucking you?”_

_Rowena smiled with her sweet venom at him. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes briefly flicked to Sam. Jesus fuck. It was a subtle, wordless question._

_Dean obliviously looked to his brother and asked, “Can you believe this?”_

_“No. No, I can’t,” Sam answered in a slight daze before snapping out of it and telling Rowena, “How are you that— It’s been less than a month.”_

_“Twenty-six days,” she corrected._

_“Twenty-six days?” Dean asked, with a look of utter confusion on his face._

_Ignoring Dean, Rowena told Sam, “There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.” She offered a wavering smile of false innocence. “Magic.”_

_Sam covered his face briefly before running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t believe this. You were— We talked—“ He was clearly at a loss for words._

_Dean looked back and forth between their faces. “You talked?” But neither of them acknowledged him._

_Rowena put her hands on her hips, somehow bringing even more attention to her round belly. “Well, excuse me, Samuel, but these sorts of things aren’t easily sorted. Mystical pregnancies take significant research, study, calculations. You can’t rush it.”_

_Sam gestured to her belly. “_ It’s _rushing it.”_

_“To be fair, it was your vision that said we had five months,” she said in her defense._

_“We had?” Dean repeated, then in a stunned voice asked, “Sammy, you’re the fuckwit warlock?”_

_Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not a warlock.”_

_“Not with that attitude,” Rowena commented before adding, “And yes, Dean. Samuel’s the father. So glad ‘ye decided to follow the conversation.”_

_Dean covered his face with his hands for a moment, possibly doing a ten-count, then groaned, “What the fuck, Sam.”_

_Sam waved his hand, dismissing the implied criticism as not being his most pressing concern. “Chew me out later for going behind your back or whatev—“_

_“Wait.” Dean signaled for a timeout. “Did she say vision?”_

* * *

When the world returned to normal, Sam saw Rowena sitting on a paving stone five feet to his right. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed. The trace amount of sweat drying on her skin seemed to give her a gentle glow in the moonlight. Her back was to him, petite legs to one side, tucked below her pert butt. She was reviewing her ritual notes.

After pulling his eyes away from her naked body, Sam looked at his still semihard dick. He reached down, grabbing it, and adjusted it to examine the tip. There was an inch-long tear in the head of the condom. The cheap excuse for protection had failed… and upon reflection he hadn’t taken the time to squeeze the air out of the tip before putting it on. His head dropped back to the ground with a thud and a groan.

“How did it go wrong?” Rowena said, though he wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or if it was rhetorical. “The spell, something went clarty.”

“Rowena—“

“Samuel,” she parroted back without looking up.

“The condom broke.”

She placed her hand on the open page she’d been reading, then looked up to stare thoughtfully into the dark garden before turning to face him. “Well, really that’s a bridge to cross when we need to. Nothing to be done tonight, and not under a sabbath moon certainly.” She held up the grimoire. “We only have another hour or two to fix whatever went wrong—“ She quickly pointed at him. “—Don’t get dressed. We might have to do it again.”

Still thoroughly confused by everything, he immediately replied, “I only had one condom.”

“And a spectacular job it did,” she pointed out sarcastically. “Being wholly without isn’t likely to make the situation any worse now, is it?”

He wanted to be defensive, but the fact was that she was right. Any damage had likely already been done. Despite that, his head was still spinning from the discovery of the broken condom. Meanwhile she was pursuing other quarry.

“This doesn’t make sense,” she muttered. “The spell was supposed to enhance my latent power, but the energy….” She became consumed by flipping the page back and forth looking for some piece of the puzzle that she was missing. Almost to herself, she mused aloud, “It would be different if you were a witch yourself. Then at least there’d be another place for the energy to go.”

Sam swallowed dryly. “When you say latent power and energy….”

“It channels a sort of growth and repair. Mere humans don’t draw upon this sort of life force. Your body wouldn’t be able to—“

He propped himself up on his elbows to look at her more directly. “I used to be a psychic.”

Rowena held up a hand to silence him, then closed her eyes for a moment while processing his statement. “I’m sorry. Did you just say that you're a psychic? And in the years we’ve known each other you failed to mention it. Is that right?”

“I haven’t been a psychic in almost a decade.” It wasn’t the sort of thing he brought up with anyone, including the handful of people who had known him at the time. “Anyway, it’s personal.”

“You don’t have visions then?”

“I don’t— I didn’t.” Sam suddenly felt a sinking feeling in his gut at the image of Rowena, round belly in hand. His eyes flicked down to the broken condom on the ground. “I think I just did.”

“I see.” She started scribbling out a correction to her notes. “We might be able to salvage this with a few bitty tweaks. As long as there aren’t any more surprises—“

“I—“ He could barely speak because his mouth was so dry. “I think you’re pregnant.”

She let out a small chuckle at the absurdity of the suggestion. “Contrary to the cheap shortcuts of the movies, nobody is pregnant after all of five minutes.”

“Biology lessons aside, in my vision you were pregnant,” he explained. “Visibly, obviously pregnant. And you called it a mystical pregnancy, like maybe affected by the spell.”

She thought in ominous silence for several seconds before asking, “And would you say the accuracy of your visions is ‘possible’ or rather ‘inescapable?’”

“In the vision you said that my vision about you being pregnant was wrong.” He took a moment to double check the statement, but Rowena appeared thoroughly confused.

“You had a vision telling you that the vision you were having was wrong?”

“No. The vision that you were talking about was different than the vision I was having, but it sounded like it was in place of it.”

Rowena placed a finger on her lips, wordless asking for that convoluted line of discussion to stop. “This is ridiculous.”

Sam fully sat up and raised his hands. “Listen, I’m not about to say that I understand how magic and temporal paradoxes interact. I’m just telling you what I saw.”

She tilted her head to the side, acknowledging the unprecedented situation. After thinking for a moment, she asked, “Important question: in this vision, is my maternity dress lovely?”

He gave her a weak, unamused scowl. “This isn’t funny.”

She crawled over and patted his bare chest, petite hand tiny compared to his pecs. “I’ll admit if we really do have a….” She wavered for a beat, either settling on wording or actually contemplating the possibility. “Well, hiccup—“

“You said, ‘mystical pregnancy.’”

“—then it will pay to keep a cool head and sense of humor.”

He lightly gripped her shoulder, drawing her full attention. “Rowena, I came here because you asked for my help. For you, I’ll always come if you need help. I just—“ He gently squeezed her arm and dragged his thumb along her silky flesh. “I care about you. And yes, maybe I’m attracted to you, but this isn’t what I signed on for….”

That wasn’t exactly true or fair of him. Sam knew that pregnancy was almost always a risk with vaginal sex; it was the reason he’d required the condom then but not pressed for it during the blowjob. He wasn’t without responsibility. Not even counting the shoddy way he’d put on the condom, he’d gone in without knowing what other safeguards might be in place. It’d be easy to dismiss his recklessness as relying on a four-hundred-year-old woman to be past her fertile years, but he knew better than to make assumptions when magic was involved.

He corrected himself. “All things being equal….” He wasn’t even sure if he’d want a kid apart from all the complications of the situation. “This is an inconvenient time. My whole life has been an inconvenient time.”

“I know,” she acknowledged in a slightly dejected tone.

Despite his circumstances, he also knew some of what she’d gone through in her life. Crowley’s father had abandoned them and it had devastated her to the point where she hadn’t opened herself up to hardly anyone for centuries. He wouldn’t do that to her for so many reasons, whatever form they’re relationship might take going forward.

“But I’m not about to disappear on you,” he assured her.

Rowena’s eyes met his for a long while as any remaining snark and defensive wit faded. The sincerity in her face made her look more tired and yet more beautiful. Her hand rested on his thigh as she nodded.

“I’m not eager for a wee one either, but ‘mystical pregnancy’ is a term of art in the craft,” she informed him in an apologetic tone. After a beat she asked, “If it turns out to be beyond our control, what would you do?”

Sam exhaled slowly at the question. He had no idea how he might handle having a child. That sort of thing hadn’t even occurred to him in years. Since then his life had become far too chaotic to be a parent. Well, Jack might disagree with his assessment. Regardless of him being out of his depths, it sounded like some iteration of his vision might really be in the cards.

“‘My whole life has been an inconvenient time,’” he quoted himself before continuing. “Then I guess I’d have to change my life. What that looks like….” Taking a few seconds to search his feelings didn’t conjure any profound guidance on how to potentially turn his world upside down, just two early steps. “Honestly, at this point I can only think as far as having several strong drinks and asking you out on a date.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “A date?”

He felt so embarrassed by the quant proposal; it didn’t help that he was still naked. “To see if there’s really something between us.”

“Or if we’ll remain an unlikely friendship,” she suggested, then grinned mischievously. “Buttressed with unparalleled raw sexual magnetism.”

A small chuckle escaped him at the tension breaker. His eyes reflexively passed over her bare body. She wasn’t wrong. The sex had been great—supernatural, potentially life-changing repercussions aside. Just thinking about the possibility of them becoming real lovers started making him aroused.

Rowena nibbled her lip at the sight of him getting harder. Her hand slid across his thigh and started playing with his dick as she leaned in and kissed him. After a few seconds she pulled back and whispered, “Be a dear and play with yerself for two minutes while I change some runes. We’ll stay here and keep trying until the ritual works or we run out of high moonlight.”

“Is that safe?” he asked. God forbid they spell-fuck their way into twins.

She thought for a moment, rerunning some incomprehensible calculation in her head before replying. “A compromise: we limit ourselves to petting and oral. It’s less likely for the spell to work, but much, much smaller chance of the spell fast-proving or doubling a hypothetical bun.”

It had already been what he considered possibly the strangest night of his life—an incredible feat for someone who had briefly been a car. If she seriously thought that it was a safe experiment now that she had a fuller picture, then he was prepared for it to continue. He certainly wouldn’t turn down another blowjob.

When they were both completely spent, he lay beside her in the cool grass and stared up at the full moon, which had started its descent. The faintly glowing green mist swirled above them. Rowena looked as though she was falling asleep, her hand absentmindedly resting on her lower abdomen. Sam watched her for a moment before sighing and rolling over to reach for his boxers. His fingertips were about a foot shy of his underwear, but when he stretched to reach the boxers they slid the last few inches into his hand.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he groaned, “Did your psychic calculations factor in stuff like telekinesis?”

In a groggy voice she replied, “Telekinesis?”

**Author's Note:**

> A personal note for my long-time readers who might’ve been hoping for me to post something else (a continuation of a WIP or another ship):
> 
> The last year has been completely nuts. Needless to say that Covid has derailed life as usual for everyone, but in addition to that in the last year I’ve had employment issues, health problems, an entire pregnancy (after trying for years), and became a mom. I won’t list off progress reports on various fics because I don’t want to get hopes up and leave you hanging. That being said, I’m slowly finding my rhythm and am finding time to write again after a long stretch where life was too difficult. I’m not sure what order or when pieces will ripen enough to post, but I’m in the shadows tinkering when I can. I hope to do more; I’m doing my best.


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